True Colours
by jasper.nique
Summary: Aurors are swarming the halls of Hogwarts, but could their real purpose at the school be even more important? When the world around Lily Evans changes dramatically, who can she count on to always be there when she needs them the most? JP/LE


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**~~~~:|| This diary belongs to: ||:~~~~**

**LILY CHRISTINA OLIVIA EVANS**

If found, please do **_NOT_** read and return to above mentioned Lily Evans _**immediately**_ before she realises her diary is gone and begins to have a nervous breakdown due to the very PRIVATE nature of its contents. Thank-you!

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**Friday, 30****th**** August.**

**3:16pm,**

**Lily's Bedroom, Evans Household**

For Merlin's _sake_!

That boy _really_ needs to get a life. He clearly has way too much time on his hands.

Can't he just take no for an answer? Honestly, why can't he just accept that I'm NOT INTERESTED?

For the last eight weeks I have been enjoying a completely-James-Potter-free-and-therefore-amazing holiday in France, actually believing that he may have _finally_ decided to get over me. That was until I arrived home a few hours ago to find _twenty-four_ letters, all of which look to be containing a _novel_ of parchment, sitting on my desk. Yeah, TWENTY-FOUR! That is averaging about three a _week_! Seriously, did he not have _anything_ better to do all summer? It's not as if I have ever (not even once) indicated that I actually _enjoy_ receiving his letters (or his attention, for that matter!). I'm not even sure that I'm going to open them.

He obviously has _waaaaay_ to much time on his hands, and is in very apparent need of a summer job. Maybe I should write a letter to his parents…

_Dear Mr/Mrs Potter,_

_Your son, James, is stalking me - has been since third year, actually. It's rather quite creepy, and _extremely_ infuriating so could you please make him stop? Perhaps he should see a shrink, or maybe get a summer job that occupies all of his time, in the vain hope that he may finally _leave me alone!_ Slave labour, even? Just a thought._

_My condolences for having to live with the stupid twat. Please don't procreate again, because this world couldn't survive with two James Potters._

_Thanking you in advance,_

_Lily Evans._

Short and to the point, don't you think?

Speaking of letters, I don't think I'm going to open the ones from Potter. Maybe a ritual burning is in order? Hmmm… I wonder if Dad has got the fireplace working? I'll have to ask him…

Later though, because I don't have the time to dwell on the annoyance that is James Potter at the moment. Seriously, do you realise how much transfiguration homework Professor McGonagall has set me over the holidays? Enough to feed the third world with, I swear! I think she is just trying to punish me. She really can be cruel like that. It's not _my_ fault that I just don't mesh well with transfiguration - we can't all be transfiguring twits like Potter.

I know I should have finished the homework while I was in France, but I really couldn't motivate myself. Although, I'm starting to panic because I haven't started any of the homework, and I'm returning to Hogwarts in two days!

Excuse me while I go _jump off a cliff_.

* * *

**Later,**

**Lily's Desk in her Bedroom**

McGonagall is going to _kill_ me!

She really really is.

She is going to bite my head off and throw me off the astronomy tower.

Seriously, how on Earth does she expect me to actually _finish_ all these questions? It's never going to happen, because I can't answer any of them! Not a single one.

They are _that_ hard!

I think I'm having a nervous breakdown! I can't _take_ this pressure anymore. That cliff is looking mighty attractive at the moment. I almost failed transfiguration last year, but McGonagall let me continue in the class this year if I promised to put in more effort and finish all my holiday homework, otherwise she won't let my in the NEWT class next year. I need to be in the NEWT class if I want to work as an auror – which clearly presents a major problem because: I'm so going to fail transfiguration this year, and the year hasn't even started yet! McGonagall is going to kick me out of her transfiguration class, then I'll probably be kicked out of the school for being such a bad student and will probably be a failure for the rest of my miserable life, which isn't…..

My owl has come to visit me! She is a pretty owl, in a rather peculiar sense – all grey except for these strange bright orange feathers surrounding her purpley-blue eyes that are more purple than blue.

…wait. Is that a letter she's holding? Well, at least that gives me an excuse to postpone transfiguration. I can't leave Sasha waiting, otherwise it is quite probable that I will not be left with any fingers with which to complete above mentioned transfiguration homework.

* * *

**Even Later,**

**Lily's Bedroom**

_TO DO LIST:_

_1. Pack my school trunk (would McGonagall believe that I 'accidently' left my transfiguration homework at home?)_

_2. Ask mum how I'm getting to the train station tomorrow_

_3. Get my robes from the laundry where mum washed them_

_4. Find the lock to this diary… it has to be up here somewhere_

_5. Burn those letters! (from Potter)_

_6. Finish transfiguration homework_

_7. Find cliff!!!!_

* * *

**Even Later Later,**

**Lily's Bedroom**

The letter really was a let down, as it wasn't from any of my mates. It was just the usual letter that Hogwarts sends out to all the prefects every summer.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY _

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

_Dear Miss Evans, __th__ year students of your house. As you are now a sixth year student, and this is your second term in office as a prefect, we expect you to uphold appropriate behaviour as would be fitting of a student in a place of such responsibility._

We are pleased to inform you that you have retained your position of Gryffindor Prefect for the upcoming school year, representing the 6

_Congratulations again on your success last year in both your academic studies and your leadership roles. Please find enclose a new prefect's badge that is to be worn during school hours._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Professor McGonagall, __Deputy Headmaster._

Which was kind of handy, I suppose, because I lost my last prefect's badge in the bottomless-pit-that-is-also-known-as-my-school-trunk. I have no idea where it is.

My mother, of course, was ecstatic that I was made prefect again, but I am rather doubtful about the whole thing, because I'm sure that as soon as McGonagall realises that I haven't finished _any_ of my summer homework, she will strip me of my position and give it to someone who is more deserving.

Bloody hell.

I really, _really_ need to finish my transfiguration! Hmmmm, but sleep is looking like such a good option right about now… I'm so tired.

Maybe I'll just rest for a while…

* * *

**Saturday, 31****st**** August.**

**9:43am, Breakfast Table**

Ok, so even though I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm _never_ going to get this transfiguration homework done and will therefore be kicked out of the school as soon as I arrive, I am still extremely excited.

I'M GOING BACK TO HOGWARTS TOMORROW!

I haven't seen my friend's all summer, and only had time to write a handful of letters to them while I was in France, so I'm rather desperate to see them. Even though Hogwarts means facing a _very_ scary McGonagall, and a very _very_ annoying James Potter, my friends are _defiantly_ worth it.

I can't help but notice that Petunia is in an extremely jovial mood this morning, and I have a suspicion that her high spirits have been brought on by the same reasons that _I'm_ in such a good mood – my imminent return to Hogwarts. Honestly, she could at least have the audacity to look a _little_ upset by my leaving for a whole year. I know we don't get along, but still…. it's rude. At least this means that she isn't going to try and pick a fight with me while I'm attempting to finish my transfiguration homework. Because, let's face it: I need all the concentration I can muster from my pathetic excuse for a brain.

Oh great, now she's glaring at me. What happened to the 'happy' Petunia who was just occupying that seat, huh? Oh god, she is _so_ going to try and pick a fight with me…

Can't she just leave me alone for _one _morning?

Well at least my parents are going to miss me. My mum made me an amazing breakfast (with so much bacon!), as it is going to be my last here for a while (I usually stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, so I don't have to deal with my sister). My dad, who is usually pretty gruff in his affection, gave me a swift kiss on the top of my head as he walked past to get the mail. If only they knew that they may _never_ see me again, due to the fact that McGonagall is going to rip off my head (yeah that's right, I _still_ haven't started my transfiguration homework - but it's so hard, you can't blame me!). If she had a motherly/nurturing side, I would try appealing to that, but in all honestly I don't think she does. She's just _that_ scary. Besides, it's not like…

Wow, my dad just screamed for Petunia from the front door – and he doesn't sound happy at all. It sounds like she's in _big_ trouble. I wonder what she's done?

* * *

**A little later,**

**Breakfast Table**

£325! Three hundred and twenty-five pounds! Is that stupid girl INSANE?

How did she think she was going to get away with it? My dad is doing to _kill_ her. She is so dead.

I mean, who spends £325 on a phone bill in a month? She has a £40 pound limit each month, and she spent £325! That's crazy, even for my sister.

My dad was not impressed, to say the least. I think Petunia is grounded for the rest of her life. And she now has to get a job to pay my parents back, which is going to be hard considering that she's never worked a day in her life. If you can imagine it, that was not the end of it for my sister. Because my dad looked at the phone kill and found a number that my sister had been calling more than 20 times every day. A number that he threatened to call until my sister finally admitted it belonged to her boyfriend.

"So help me, young lady, when I find out who this number belongs to…" He screamed at her, to which my sister replied between sobs: "He's my boyfriend, alright!"

That's right. _Boyfriend_. My sister has a boyfriend! Petunia – horse-faced, giraffe-necked, nasty, vile Petunia – has a boyfriend! Someone _actually_ thinks she's worth dating! The world never ceases to amaze me. What's even sadder, of course, is that _she_ has a boyfriend when _I_ don't.

Of course, my dad was not impressed that she had been sneaking around with this boy. Petunia was told that she had to bring the boy home and introduce him to the family if she wanted to continue dating him. Which I'm so not looking forward to. Umm, does she _have_ to, dad? I don't want to meet this clown!

After all of this Petunia ran back into the dining room, tears streaming down her face, turned to me and said "He's never going to stay with me after he meets you, freak!" and ran off, slamming her bedroom door.

Umm, _excuse me_? WAS SHE SERIOUS! HOW DARE SHE?

I know that she isn't exactly my biggest fan, but she _is_ my sister. Doesn't that count for anything? She can be a right hurtful bitch sometimes. I don't even know why this guy started dating her in the first place.

That girl needs a serious talking to.

* * *

**Later, Later,**

**Beside the Evan's pool.**

Did I ever mention how much I HATE my sister?

Really, I do!

I know hate is a strong word and everything, but in this case IT FITS!

I confronted her about her snide little comment, and it turned into a huge fight.

"You always ruin _everything_!" She screamed at me when I forced my way into her sickeningly pink room. "Can't you just _leave me the hell alone?_"

What is a girl to say to that?

"Petunia, how is that even fair? I haven't even MET this boy! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?" I shouted back. "It's not _my_ fault that I am a…"

Petunia just threw me an ugly glare, silencing my proclamation of witchery, but didn't respond to my questions.

"I'm leaving! I'm staying the night at Charlotte's, so just _stay away_!" She shrieked as she threw clothes into an overnight bag.

Hallelujah, anyone? Seriously I must have a guardian angle! A whole night without my retched sister? This is too much good luck for my ridiculously bad karma to handle. Of course there was a down side to this whole affair… a bombshell of sorts.

"And don't think I'm driving you to the station tomorrow, either!"

Oh great.

Fan-fucking-_tastic_.

How am I supposed to get to the station now?

I slammed her door in her face, and went to do what any self-respecting sixteen year old does – I went and complained to my dad. I eventually found him in his office, reading the paper, of all things. He looked quite relaxed, with his feet up on the desk and his chair leaned right back.

"Daddy," I whined in my best I'm-your-favourite-daughter-so-be-nice-to-me voice, "Petunia is being a right selfish cow and won't take me to the station tomorrow. What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't call your sister that, Lily." Was all that my father said, not looking up from his paper.

But what about if it's true? Am I allowed to call her a cow if it's the truth? Because she _is_ a cow! I didn't think saying this out loud would help my cause though. My parents have this strange fantasy that Petunia and I will somehow outgrow our differences and become the best friends we were when we were younger.

Psh. When pigs fly.

"How am I supposed to get to the station tomorrow?" I reminded him.

He sighed and finally glanced up from his paper, looking at me over the rim of his dark blue glasses.

"I don't know, sweetheart, but you're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."

I blinked at him in shock, which just made him grin sheepishly.

"_Really_? Is that all the help you're going to give your favourite daughter?" I cried, throwing my hands up at the injustice of it all.

My father just shrugged at me and turned back to his paper. "You know I don't have favourites, Lily. What about catching a taxi?"

A taxi? Gosh daddy, what a _brilliant_ idea… psh. Idiot.

"Dad, do you _realise_ how much a taxi is going to cost to get to King's Cross? Are _you_ willing to pay for it?"

"Well, there is always the bus."

I stared at him in utter shock, unable to speak, but he was too busy with his paper to see my look of astonishment at his complete neglect.

"The bus? What! No! Can't you take me?" I begged when I was finally able to speak again, but knowing it was worthless.

"Honey, you know your mother and I both have to work tomorrow. If you're going to keep fighting with your sister like this, then you have to understand that you can't get lifts off her either. Honestly, the bus won't be so bad. I used to catch busses all the time when I was your age."

Wow, I can't believe it. His is throwing me to the wolves!

A bus?

Is he _serious_?

* * *

**Even Later,**

**Living room.**

My parents are stupid.

I mean really, really stupid. I can't believe how stupid they are actually being. It's so unfair! I blame my sister. She must have corrupted them.

Not only is my mum going along with this stupid _bus_ plan, but she is making me walk all the way down to the bus stop right now to see what time the bus comes in the morning.

As I said, it's _so_ unfair!

In fact she is yelling at me to hurry up, because it's getting dark. I suppose she has a point. I'd better get a move on, because my parents don't look like they are about to change their minds.

So unfair.

* * *

**Latest,**

**Lily's bed.**

I'm still in shock. My heart is about to explode - I actually think I'm about to have a heart attack.

That bus stop is the creepiest, weirdest, strangest place I've ever been. I'm not even kidding. It's all metal, with graffiti everywhere and spider webs inside all the gaps in the seats – and my parents are _still_ making me catch the bus!

The bus stop is right outside this huge all-girls boarding school, visible from the large front gates. There were even two girls dressed in school uniform sitting at the bus stop on the other side of the street talking and laughing at each other.

The walk to the bus stop was fine. The sun was setting, so it wasn't too hot, and the flowers in the playground down the end of my street were actually quite pretty when they were doused in the burgundy afternoon light. I finally made it to the bus stop as the street lights were coming on, and hastily checked the timetable on the shelter wall. Apparently the earliest bus comes at 8:02am tomorrow morning.

It wasn't until I turned around to walk back home that I realised something was wrong.

A guy dressed in loose fitting clothing and a baggy cap was leaning against the far wall of the bus shelter, staring at me with unblinking black eyes. Truthfully? Those eyes terrified me. His gaze didn't leave mine until his phone started ringing in his pocket, which he quickly answered. I shuddered as he looked away and fished a small flip phone out of his pocket, feeling somehow dirty and slimy.

"Yeah?" He asked into the phone, and listened for a moment to the person on the other line. "It's time. How far away are you?"

After the voice on the other end talked for a moment longer he shoved the phone back into his pocket and began to walk down the street (I sighed with relief) towards the big iron gates of the boarding school. I heard a squeal of rubber on bitumen, and looked behind me in time to watch as an old yellow car screech past the bus stop and pull up in the car park outside the school. The guy from the bus stop jogged over to the car and waited as four of his friends got out and pushed open the gates of the school.

As they disappeared into the school, my legs were suddenly able to move again, and I quickly crossed the street and began jogging home, hoping to put as much distance between myself and the old yellow car as I possibly could. I hadn't even realised I had been paralysed with fear until I could no longer see the men.

My heart was pounding against my chest, sending adrenaline pumping through my veins that heightened my senses and lit my skin on fire. As I rounded the corner of the playground on the very edge of the school grounds I broke out into a sprint, listening to any sounds that could be heard over the pounding of my shoes against the pavement.

Suddenly there was a huge BOOM from behind me, coming from the school grounds, and I was thrown to the ground. The last thing I remembered before I fell into unconsciousness was the taste of blood in my mouth and the painful roaring in my ears. As my vision began to blur I heard a male voice curse "Fuck!" from somewhere down the end of the street. Then there was nothing.

I woke to sound of an angry voice shouting. The owner of the voice was pacing on the pavement besides me, and when I opened my eyes I realised that he was yelling into a phone.

"Where the hell is Riley? She was suppose to _be_ here!" A pause. "Well that's not good enough, Richard. Find her!" At this point I rolled over a little to get a better glimpse of the guy, but my head was throbbing so painfully that I couldn't move much further. "No, tell Stanford the girl is ok. I fixed the cut on her head, but I think she might be a little concuss. Let me know if you hear anything. And Richard? When you hear from Riley, I want to speak to her in person!"

The guy hung up the phone and came to squat beside me as he examined my face. He was wearing this brown leather jacket and jeans, and his face was contorted into a worried frown. His gaze was so critical that I tried to sit up, but he put a restraining hand on my shoulder.

"Don't try and sit up. I think you may be a bit concuss."

I nodded at his directions, which sent a spasming pain ripping through my head that almost shoved me back into unconsciousness.

The guy considered me for a moment, and then said "Are you alright? You look pretty beaten up."

"I'm fine. I just want to go home." I said, trying to sit up again.

As I tried to stand I felt the edges of my vision become blurry, and had trouble standing upright until the guy rushed to help me.

"No offense, but you don't look 'fine' to me," he said, steadying me, "why don't you just sit down for a bit?"

He walked me to the edge of the pavement and sat me so that my feet sprawled out onto the road. He spent several moments looking down at me in silence, his arms crossed against his chest and a small frown playing across his face.

"Your lip is bleeding," he finally said, and reached into his leather jacket and produced a tissue, which he eventually handed me. "Do you live around here?"

"Yeah. Down on Burke Street." I replied, pointing in the general direction of my house with one hand and using the tissue to wipe the blood from my rapidly swelling lip with the other.

"You look really shaken up, are you sure you're not hurt? Anything feel broken?"

I shook my head, probably still in too much shock from my encounter with the creepy guy at the bus stop, then the explosion, to say anything substantial.

He continued to look at me rather sceptically but didn't press the matter of my health any further. We were both silent for several long moments until I could no longer stand the awkwardness.

"I'm Lily, by the way." I muttered rather lamely, which made him grin, flashing a row of perfectly white teeth.

"Jesse." He smiled, a very troubled smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and extended his hand, which I shook but didn't say anything else. "What were you doing out here at this time of night?"

I quickly explain how I was checking the times for the train to King's Cross tomorrow, as my sister wouldn't drive me there after our fight.

Suddenly a smell hit my nose that almost made me roll over and hurl up the contents of my afternoon tea. It was a metallic smell filled with the stench of burning plastic and smouldering steel. Not knowing what I would find, I turned towards the school and couldn't believe my eyes. From my vantage point on the corner I couldn't see much of the school grounds, but the parts I could glimpse had been reduced to rubble, and a thick black stream of smoke was rising from the main building.

"Were…" I began, but found my throat closed up. I cleared my throat that suddenly felt like sandpaper, and tried again. "Were there any people in there?" I swallowed, trying to sooth my burning throat. "Any children?"

Jesse didn't answer me right away, he just gazed at the school with a distant look on his face. Eventually, he looked back down at me over his crossed arms and muttered 'I'm not sure…"

"Do you know what happened?" I asked timidly, not sure if I was really ready to talk about the whole explosion thing, "What caused it, I mean?"

"No. But I'm hoping to find out…" Jesse added, almost as an afterthought.

I didn't realise I was crying until another tissue was suddenly shoved under my nose, which (of course) cause me to cry even harder. I seriously could have died from embarrassment. My cheeks burning red with shame, I hid my face behind my hands but couldn't stop the flow of hot, wet tears. That's me, big old cry-baby Prefect.

Jesse looked uncomfortable, and I don't blame him, as I was hiccupping rather loudly into my dirty hands (from all that falling on the ground and all) at this point, trying to hide my face from him.

"Don't worry about it," Jesse said, throwing an arm around my shoulder and attempting to sound comforting, but instead sounding worried and a little scared, "Everything will be ok. You've just had a tough evening, is all."

Which, of course, still didn't really give me a reason to have an emotional breakdown, but it was sweet of him to think so.

"Listen, why don't I give you a lift home?" He asked when I was finally able to keep my emotions in check. Honestly, I could have married the boy right then, so happy was I that I didn't have to face the dark streets alone. Instead, I settled for throwing my arms around him and giving him a grateful hug. He muttered gruffly and occupied himself with helping me to stand up.

True to his word, Jesse led me to his car that was parked several streets over. The drive home didn't take very long, and before I knew it I was standing on my front perch, saying good-bye to Jesse.

"Well, thanks for the lift and for… you know… being so nice and everything…" I trailed off lamely, not knowing quite what to say.

"Don't worry about it," Jesse laughed, dismissing my thanks with a wave of his hand, "It was my pleasure."

"Yeah, well… thanks."

As I was turning to head inside my house, and possibly crash on my bed without dinner, Jesse stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey Lily, you're going to King's Cross tomorrow, right? Did you want a lift so you didn't have to take the bus?"

"Oh, no, you've already done enough…"

"It won't be any hassle, I have to catch a train my self tomorrow morning, so I'm heading to the station anyway."

"Really? Oh, well in that case a lift would be awesome."

I stood there, grinning like an absolute idiot until Jesse told me he would be back at 8.30 tomorrow and walked back to his car.

"Lily? Is that you, honey?" My mum called from the kitchen as soon as I stepped inside. Walking into the kitchen I was met with a delicious smell that radiated from the oven.

"Oh, thank God you're alright!" Mum said, touching my cheeka and grabbing me into a tense embrace. "David, David! It's Lily! She's home!"

"Lily?" My dad asked, rushing into the kitchen. "Oh, you're alright!" He breathed a sigh of relief, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter.

"Did you hear that loud noise, honey? It sounded like an explosion!"

I was saved from answering by my sister's call from the living room.

"Mum, Dad. You have to come and see this!"

The three of us went into the living room, and found my sister's eyes glued to the TV. She had her overnight bag at her feet, and her car keys were in her hand. My father grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned up the volume so the rest of us could hear the opening story of the news.

"…reports coming in about an explosion that occurred at St. Amelia's school late this afternoon. Apparently all the boarders and boarding staff were at the school at the time, and it is thought, at this early stage, that the death total now exceeds 45 students and 6 staff members. At the moment it is not known what the cause of the incident was, but police are hoping any witness may be able to provide vital clues."

"Oh, my. More than 50 people killed! My mother had exclaimed softly, a delicate hand covering her mouth in shock. "That's terrible…"

Shortly afterwards my sister left for Charlotte's house, and my parents and I sat down for dinner. I don't know how I went through the whole dinner without thinking about the explosion, but I somehow managed it. Maybe it was the images of Jesse's grinning face that kept pushing itself into my thoughts that kept me distracted.

Merlin that is _defiantly_ not a good thing.

I barely even know this guy…

* * *

Authors Note: Ok, so please review?


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